


Up and Over

by eyemeohmy



Category: Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: (Attempted) Comedy, M/M, Sexuality, Tactile sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-11
Updated: 2013-01-11
Packaged: 2017-11-25 03:14:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/634521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyemeohmy/pseuds/eyemeohmy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a couple lighthearted Ratchet/Ambulon ficlets. Up against the wall and over the desk. Gift for my friend, Toast. uvu</p>
            </blockquote>





	Up and Over

**Author's Note:**

> Couple of fic prompts I filled as suggested by Toast. Ratchet/Ambulon - up against the wall or over a table, and someone walking in on them and one of them freaking out. I decided to do both. Uh, so yeah. Just some simple stuff. Nothing too explicit (it’s tactile sex) or what-have-you. No major spoilers for MtMtE, unless you don’t know who the fuck Ambulon is.

Funny how the room was cold just a few minutes ago, and now it might as well have been a sauna.

Oh, perhaps that was an exaggeration; that didn't change the fact it still _felt_ like the place hiked up fifty degrees.

Ambulon could hear his vents cycle humid air through his system. Coolant pushed through venous circuitry to calm the spike in his core temperature. He was pretty sure his chassis was equally warm as it was slightly rattling.

"Are you scared? Because if you are, we can stop. Don't feel like you're--"

"I'm not scared," Ambulon interjected. Ratchet lifted his head, their optics meeting. Ambulon swallowed dryly, and said, more calmly this time, "I'm not... scared." Contrary to how his chassis was reacting, Ratchet could tell he was being honest. There was embarrassment, most definitely, but not fear. Not really. "It... It's just been..." He trailed off into a grumble, pushing his fingers into his crest.

"A while?" Ratchet finished with a knowing smirk.

Not... exactly. "You could say that." Because the truth felt far more embarrassing, and he just... didn't know why? Not that he cared, anyway, but... Ambulon exhaled and visibly relaxed. "Right."

"Are you ready, then?"

"I-- Yes. I'm ready."

Okay, well, maybe not entirely. Ambulon had expected Ratchet to just seal up the remaining space between them like before, engage into another kiss. Slow and steady. Rather, suddenly, Ambulon felt the ground disappear from under his feet and his arms flew around Ratchet's neck in a tight embrace. His back hit the wall - not slammed, per se, as the impact had been calculated only to cause minute pain. Being a medic had its perks.

Nonetheless, that didn't change the fact that Ambulon was now pinned to the wall, arms and now legs reaching up to wrap around the older Autobot. He could have asked Ratchet why; could have asked him what he was thinking, but he all ready knew the answer. It frightened him, a little, that Ratchet all ready knew as well, despite having not told him that maybe, perhaps, just slightly, he liked it like this? How embarrassing; was he that transparent?

Words were hardly possible given the fact their lips were locked in something indescribably desperate. Sure, there was passion, but it was clumsy, too. Mostly on Ambulon's part, he knew, somewhere in the far reaches of his mind. The desperation was all his as well; he didn't recognize it, not at first. It never occurred to him interfacing was ever important enough to warrant such inexplicable amounts of desire.

It surprised him even now, as he pulled Ratchet closer. There was no more room to steal; Ratchet's chassis was grinding hard enough to dent metal, hard enough to rub steel against the walls. Still, the kissing didn't feel like enough, not nearly enough; their tongues entwining, the taste of energon and oil on their lips, not nearly enough. Ambulon wondered if Ratchet was bored, maybe having a hard time keeping up? He was no expert, but he was demanding. Maybe things were routine; maybe Ratchet was used to this, but at least Ambulon was energetic.

Soon, hands (so weird, those hands, they're red now, but Ambulon knows better, and it was awkward the first time they touched, really, _very_ awkward, but now he just _needs_ those hands on him) slipped down to wrap skilled fingers around Ambulon's hips. Finding delicate seams in between dermal plating and armor. They worked inside, releasing vibrations of energy that immediately forced away Ambulon's mouth from devouring Ratchet's to whimper.

It was a ridiculous noise - why did everything have to feel simultaneously embarrassing and fucking wonderful? - but he chose to ignore it. Ratchet didn't; of course he didn't. He even leered at it. Ambulon pinned him a genius, wise beyond his years, but not a _pervert_. You learned new things everyday; this was perhaps one of the best ways to go about it.

Ratchet's hands continued massaging down his hips and thighs, all the while holding the smaller medic up. Until the edges of his feet scraped along the floor. Ambulon hiccuped when he was suddenly once again relying on Ratchet to keep from falling. Legs hooked around Ratchet's waist. Their bodies crashed together, vibrating, humming, as armor ground against armor. Tendrils and ropes of energy knotted to combine their fields, binding them together. Ambulon's spark thrust and smashed against its chamber, pulses erratic. It both supplied and craved power, soaking in the old Autobot's ministrations with each electric flare jolting through its host.

Neither were particularly loud, though Ambulon found it hard to control most of the noises that did manage to slip past his lips. He long since stopped caring how his whimpers must have sounded, just let them come and go as he bucked his hips, thrashed forward. Ratchet's growls in his audiols sent his mind reeling and spinning. His spark equally twisted with arousal. 

So close, so very close. Ratchet's pace started to slow, his field dampening with exhaustion. Ambulon wasn't too far behind. His spark had stopped dancing; now, it needed to let go and rest. Overworked, it wasn't far from reaching its release. Ambulon shuddered his yellow optics and buried his nose into Ratchet's neck--

"You guys seen Rodimus?"

It took nearly twenty minutes to work up to where Ambulon and Ratchet were now. Far longer before they actually even considered the idea. And it only took five seconds for it all to stop and come fucking crashing down as Whirl stood in the open doorway (which he had hacked to unlock) and stared at them blankly with one bright optic.

Ambulon stared at the cycloptic Autobot in horror, his own yellow optics flushing bright until they nearly burned from their sockets. " _Sigma_!" he cursed and immediately untangled himself from Ratchet, shoving his face in his hands. He really wished the berth wasn't across the room so he could roll under it. Ratchet, however, merely turned his head to look back at Whirl with murderous intent.

Whirl looked from Ambulon half on the verge of a breakdown and sob, to Ratchet about ready to shoot laser beams from his eyes, then back up again. "So," he said, sounding completely unfazed, "I take it you guys haven't seen Rodimus?"

\---

\---

"Are you sure the berth wouldn't be... you know... More comfortable?"

Ratchet smirked. "Maybe," he agreed. He pushed aside a few datapads. "But that's beside the point."

Ambulon helped him pick up a few stacks, deposit them on the nearby shelves and cabinets. "I just..." He shook his head, pushing up the reclining neck of a wall mounted lamp. "Well, I mean, it's something new, I guess."

"There is pleasure in it, you know."

"I'd hope so." Ambulon frowned. "I wouldn't agree to this otherwise."

Ratchet stepped away from the desk, wiped his hands off. All clean. "Trust me," he said a moment later. He approached Ambulon, the yellow-eyed medic tense but imploring. He placed his hands on his shoulders, and said, "It'll be fine."

Ambulon grunted as he was suddenly pulled forward, on top of Ratchet. The medic stretched out on his own desk, legs dangling over the edge. It took Ambulon a moment then - oh, right, right! He helped heft Ratchet's legs up, cupping beneath knee joints. Careful as to not apply too much pressure or bend his limbs awkwardly. Ratchet gave him a look - a small leer and a glow in his eyes - that hypnotically drew the smaller mech forward. "Come hither" worked every damn time.

Ambulon nudged his nose to Ratchet's, the two humming between one another. Their lips brushed in between caresses to their cheeks and crests, olfactories filling with each others scent. Warm electricity was discharged from their mingling fields. Something a little slower, this time; when they kissed, it was relaxed, steady. A slower passion. Their purrs and mewls vibrated against their mouths, tickling their sparks and resulting in playful pulses from their sensory fields.

Ratchet raised his hands, cupping the sides of Ambulon's helm. Broke their kiss to caress his crest, above an optic, then back down his nose. The younger medic shivered and gently butt forehead to forehead with him. He helped work Ratchet's legs around his torso, ankles hooking together, before pushing pelvis against pelvis.

Gently, Ratchet's hands slid down long, gangly arms, fingers curling around Ambulon's. Just for a minute, for one quick, reassuring squeeze, before guiding those hands to work circles down his sides. Ambulon caught on fast enough, initiated another clumsy kiss as his fingers probed in and out of seams between pelvis and thigh armor.

Ratchet moaned, optic ridges knitting as his optics shuttered. He tilted his head slightly, and Ambulon bent down, planting kisses and nuzzles into the strained fuel pumps lining his throat. His hands moving up to massage tired old joints; one in Ratchet's left knee, another in his shoulder.

Ratchet bucked his hips, pushing against Ambulon. The response was instantaneous. Ambulon began to undulate, their armor grinding. The energy between them sunk past their plating and into their seams, tickling, testing, touching every sensory node it could find. Ratchet bit back another groan, back arching a little as one sharp tingle rushed down his backstrut and down a thigh. He cracked open his optics, and could see Ambulon was having a hard time keeping it together as well.

The tension continue building, reaching a point where it would take only a few more pushes, a few more caresses, to completely snap. Ratchet's spark beat loud enough to thump in his audiols. He could hear Ambulon's ventilation system trying to keep the medic's chassis from overheating.

Ratchet's hands scrambled from the desk to find Ambulon's face again, hold it. Ambulon switched on his weary optics, lips parted just slightly. Without a word, he bent forward, meeting Ratchet into another kiss. The same heat as before, but sluggish now, matching the pace of their exhausted sparks.

One more kiss, one last touch, just one more, yes, there, right th--

"Have either of you seen Whirl?"

Ambulon broke the kiss first, two pairs of wide, shocked optics turned to the (hacked) open door. Rodimus stared at them impassively from the doorway.

It started with a twitch in Ratchet's brow before it turned into full blown rage. "You fragging little glitch, what the Pit are you doing!?" He shrieked like a warning siren for impending doom. "The door was locked for a reason, you slagging scraplet!" he snarled, his blue optics bright enough to pop. Rodimus just stared, blinking, as if he had not just walked in on two of his crewmates having sex. 

"You obnoxious, rude, annoying--" Ratchet hissed and groped at the nearby shelves, catching a datapad and pitching it at Rodimus. Rodimus stepped aside, missing it as it flew into the hall, hitting the far wall instead.

As Ratchet screamed obscenities and threats that would have most likely ended with him spending a night in the brig, Rodimus turned to look at Ambulon. The yellow-eyed medic still looked like a deer caught in a car's headlights, but at least he wasn't wigging out. 

"So, you haven't seen Whirl?" Rodimus asked him.

Ambulon slowly shook his head.

Rodimus frowned. "Right. Okay, thanks," he said, and left, an anatomically-correct spark figurine crashing and breaking against the closed door.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't subscribe to the entire "Ratchet throws wrenches and shit at his patients or whatever" headcanon, but figured it'd be fun to use in the latter ficlet.


End file.
